


Life is But a Dream

by thesadchicken



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Holidays, Just the boys being soft, M/M, Old Married Couple, Winter, lots and lots of fluff, old married spirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21938308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesadchicken/pseuds/thesadchicken
Summary: Jim and Spock spend the holidays in Iowa. Softness ensues.This is tooth rotting fluff.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 28
Kudos: 130





	Life is But a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Very Fluffy Self-Indulgent Winter Fic. You have been warned.

Jim pressed his cheek against Spock’s shoulder and smiled. Spock wrapped his arms around his husband, sliding his hands from Jim’s waist to the small of his back and holding him close. They swayed to the music, locked in a tender embrace. Eyes closed; hearts content – they could have stayed there in each other’s arms for hours, slow dancing until dawn.

“Mm,” Jim hummed, “I’m so glad we decided to spend the holidays here.”

Spock nuzzled Jim’s hair. “As am I, _adun_.”

Outside the large bay window, the world was quiet. Snowflakes twirled lazily down to the ground, and the soft light from the house painted the snow orange. The sky was growing darker, its mellow purple fading to black. Jim and Spock still swayed, back and forth, as a fire crackled in the stone fireplace. Old Earth jazz was playing – languid trumpets and dreamy pianos and occasionally Jim’s atonal humming.

Spock only opened his eyes for a few seconds to take it all in: the white landscape, the fire, the candlelight, Jim’s navy blue sweater. Then he let his eyes fall shut once again and gently rubbed his cheek against Jim’s temple. He felt those strong human arms slide up and down his back, resting on his shoulder blades, where clever fingers drew invisible shapes on Spock’s burgundy robes.

Yes, they could have stayed there all night. And perhaps they did. Spock couldn’t really tell: in his mind they were always dancing.

Always.

~

Jim grabbed the sonic-cleaner and swept it over the kitchen counter. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, bright despite the cold weather. Jim smiled to himself. The cookies were in the oven, and after cleaning the kitchen maybe he could tempt Spock into playing a game of chess.

Jim had been baking all morning – an activity he finally had time for. Being away from San Francisco and his work at the Academy for once was doing him a world of good. He had an entire week to look forward to: an entire week of baking and reading and waking up late.

But what Jim was truly excited about was spending more time with his husband. Back home there were days they’d only see each other briefly before bed. Starfleet needed them – _all the damn time_ – and there was always so much to do. Jim loved his job, but he loved Spock even more, and a day without him felt like forever; which was why he was so happy they’d decided to spend the holidays in Iowa.

Jim looked up from the kitchen counter when Spock entered the room. He was wearing the green and white sweater Jim’s mother had given him. It was a bit too large, but Spock had half-tucked it in and rolled up the sleeves, defining his waist and revealing his forearms. Jim dropped the sonic-cleaner on the counter. Spock managed to look breathtaking even in an oversized wool sweater…

“May I be of assistance?” Spock said.

Jim shook his head. “I’m done, just waiting for the cookies to bake. And I made us hot chocolate.”

“With marshmelons?” Spock asked, a boyish gleam in his dark eyes.

Jim smiled fondly. “Yes, with _marshmelons_ ,” he said, gesturing towards the table, where he’d placed a mug and a wine glass. He always made sure he served Spock chocolate drinks in smaller doses, and he liked how silly the wine glass looked, filled with hot chocolate and marshmallows.

Spock took a careful sip, nodding in appreciation. “Thank you, Jim,” he said, popping a marshmallow in his mouth.

Jim leaned against the table, grinning. “You’re welcome, Spock.” He lifted his mug to his lips and drank – then almost immediately put it back down, wincing in pain.

“Are you alright?” Spock asked, setting down his glass.

“Yeah,” Jim grimaced, “But I think I burned my tongue.”

“Let me see,” Spock said, cupping Jim’s face in his hands.

Before Jim had the time to ask what that was supposed to mean, he was being thoroughly kissed. For a second his eyes widened in surprise, then he melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Spock’s waist. A sigh escaped him as they moved together, and he flicked his tongue over his bondmate’s lips. Spock tasted of chocolate and cinnamon and heat, and Jim’s heart was already pounding inside his chest. His hands slid down Spock’s hips to squeeze his ass and pull him closer. Spock sucked Jim’s bottom lip into his mouth, moaning.

The timer on the oven rang. Jim pulled back, pausing when their lips were just barely touching. “How about I turn off the oven, and then we take this to the bedroom?”

“That would be agreeable,” Spock answered.

~

Winter on Earth was unlike any other in the galaxy. The trees that glistened under the silver sky, the silence that reigned over the world, the fields that seemed to stretch out eternally, white dunes in a white desert… it was an environment favorable to meditation. Spock had decided to go for a walk in the snow, although it was so cold that even his daring Human had preferred to stay inside this evening.

Spock was starting to understand why. He was wearing a thermal coat, a wool hat and a scarf, and at first that had been enough to keep him comfortably warm as he walked across the fields and along the frozen river. But the cold had crept up on him, and now he could barely feel his fingers and toes. He shoved his hands in his pockets and made his way back home as the sun set over Iowa.

It was dark when Spock finally reached the small house that belonged to Jim’s parents. He took the path that led back to the adjacent guesthouse that he and Jim were staying in, eager to get out of his damp clothes and warm himself up by the fire. He removed his shoes, coat, hat and scarf as he entered, then hurried out of the cold hall.

Spock walked into the living-room to find his bondmate sitting on the couch, his head lolling to the side, an antique hardcover book open in his lap. A plate of cookies was abandoned on the coffee table, but a trail of crumbs around it suggested it hadn’t always been that way. Spock stopped in his tracks, cocking his head to one side. Evidently Jim had fallen asleep while reading: his glasses sat lopsided on his nose, and his eyelids fluttered with whatever occupied that wonderful mind when he was asleep.

Despite the cold hardwood floor numbing his feet, Spock leaned against the door frame, unable – and unwilling – to wake Jim up just yet. He always looked so young when he was asleep; even now that time had creased his beautiful face with wrinkles and laughter lines. He looked… serene, untroubled by the world’s ceaseless roiling.

Spock caught himself smiling – only slightly, just the corners of his mouth tilting upwards. He couldn’t stop himself from sending a ripple of affection through the bond, a warm thought that gently wrapped itself around Jim’s consciousness.

The fire crackled in the fireplace, and the cat entered the room, arching her back and rubbing against Spock’s legs. Jim opened his eyes, slowly blinking as he noticed Spock standing by the door.

“Hey,” he smiled sleepily. “I fell asleep.”

“Yes, I surmised as much,” Spock raised an eyebrow.

Jim flexed his shoulders and rolled his neck, sighing as he closed his book and placed it on the coffee table. “How was your walk?”

Spock made his way to the couch. “Satisfying,” he answered.

Jim held out two fingers in a Vulcan kiss, and Spock brushed his own against them, savoring the warmth of his bondmate’s skin. Jim’s smile faded into a frown. “Your hands are freezing,” he said, then he patted the couch beside him; “come here.”

Spock sat down next to his husband, pressing their fingertips together. Jim ran his left hand over Spock’s shoulders and down his back, shaking his head. “I’m gonna get you a blanket and some dry socks,” he declared, standing up, “stay here.”

Spock watched Jim leave the room, knowing better than to object. It was unnecessary for Jim to get up of course: Spock could get his own clothes and blanket. But years of marriage had taught Spock that Jim would simply wave off his logical arguments and do it anyway.

The cat jumped onto Spock’s lap and curled up in a ball. He petted her black fur, and she closed her eyes, purring. Sometimes she reminded him of I-Chaya, although she was young and turbulent when I-Chaya had been old and wise. Would I-Chaya have played in the snow the way Plum did?

“Here you go,” Jim announced as he walked back into the living-room, carrying a large beige blanket and a pair of clean socks. He sat down next to Spock and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. “Alright, now let me see those feet.”

Spock shifted slightly, leaning back and lifting his legs up onto the couch. The cat chirruped at the disturbance but stayed curled up on Spock’s lap. Jim gently pulled Spock’s soaked socks off his feet and reached for the dry ones. His sweater slid up as he leaned over to grab them, revealing a line of pale golden skin. Spock could not resist. He slipped his freezing feet under Jim’s sweater and pressed his toes against Jim’s stomach, feeling them tingle pleasantly from the heat of that human skin.

“Spock!” Jim cried out, starting at the icy touch.

Spock knew his side of the bond was thrumming with amusement and mischief, and he did nothing to stop the steady flow of emotions from seeping through to Jim’s side. He slid his feet higher up Jim’s stomach, and Jim squirmed, wincing and laughing at the same time.

“Oh my God, that’s cold,” he said, holding Spock’s ankles in place.

“This is most effective,” Spock replied, leaning back against the armrest to get more comfortable.

Jim huffed out a laugh. “In that case, I won’t argue.” He lay back against the opposite armrest, facing Spock. “As long as you’re warm,” he smiled, his thumbs drawing tiny circles on Spock’s ankles.

Hazel eyes met Spock’s, gleaming in the firelight; ever so bright, ever so true. Jim radiated more warmth than he knew – and although wishing was illogical, Spock wished he could make his bondmate see just how extraordinary he was.

“What’s the matter?” Jim asked, sliding his hands gently up and down Spock’s legs.

Spock shook his head, but Jim raised his eyebrows at him. “Come on, Spock. I know that look.”

Spock looked down at Plum, sleeping on his stomach. When he looked back up, Jim was staring at him, his handsome features tight with concern. Spock’s chest ached with love - the way it had for so long, the way it always would. He felt the weight of words he all too frequently left unsaid, and he wondered why he kept such things silent when they were so obviously meant to be spoken out loud.

“Perhaps I do not express this often enough,” Spock’s voice was low and gentle, “but I am grateful for your presence in my life.”

The inner corners of Jim’s eyebrows titled upwards. His eyes softened. “You don’t have to say these things, Spock,” he answered quietly, “I know.”

For a few moments there was nothing but the snow swirling outside and the tenderness exchanged through the bond. Thanks to the blanket, the heat from the fireplace and Jim’s human warmth, Spock was no longer cold.

This was it. Peace. And happiness. For so long, he’d wanted this. 

“I love you,” Jim whispered, smiling softly.

For so long, he'd needed this. More than anything. And now he had it.

“And I you, _T’hy’la_.”

~

Jim was awake, and yet everything around him felt like a dream.

White sheets. Blue light. The sun peeking through the clouds to throw shadows across sharp Vulcan features. The delicate arch of Spock’s wrist, bent on the pillow. Dark eyes staring through long lashes. Silent vows and eternal promises.

“Jim”, Spock whispered. It felt like a dream. It felt like a miracle.

“Spock”, Jim whispered back. If he could only say it again, just to feel it once more on his lips, “ _Spock_...”

And then a kiss. Such tenderness Jim could only dream of. He ran his hands through his husband’s hair, messing up his bangs. Daytime flickered in Spock’s eyes. The house was quiet.

Another kiss. And then another. Lips lingering, breaths mingling. Love flowing through the bond, unstoppable.

“Life really is a dream,” Jim smiled against Spock’s lips.

 _Then do not wake me up_ , Spock answered through the bond.

Jim placed a kiss on his bondmate’s forehead. He wished they could stay there all day, dreaming together until sunset. And maybe they did. Jim couldn’t really tell: in his mind they were always dreaming.

Always.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays everyone!
> 
> (NOTE: _adun_ is a Vulcan word meaning "life partner" or "husband".)


End file.
